


All Things in Due Time

by Ebyru



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Time, M/M, Revelations, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 14:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9128092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: Perhaps Graves (Grindelwald) gets more out of his alliance with Credence than he’s willing to admit.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta’d. I just wanted to get something out before the New Year! (I didn't realize I didn't post a single fic this year, my god. school is a drag, man.)
> 
> Spoilers for the film, so watch that first.   
> First time posting in the HP world, though I'm a longtime fan; please be kind. :)

It’s in the dead of night that Percival awakes, covered in sweat, clutching his sheets. His bed is big enough for ten, but always, always, leaves him more empty than satisfied. He tries not to consider who the cause of this is. He has always been alone, and will continue to be that way so long as he cannot recruit others with similar minds.

Percival’s feet touch the cold floor, and even that isn’t enough to shake him from the visions in his dream. He often gets them: about the Obscurial, the Second Salemer mother, and now Credence.

The bathroom is as big as the bedroom, if not more. The mirror takes up much of the wall, long enough to show both his reflection and through him in a sense. His brow is covered in a sheen of sweat, his breathing still not slowing. All because of a dream.

Credence, a kind but naïve boy, was the main player this time. It hadn’t been that way in the past. The visions always had the mother – that brute – with a younger child by her side, beating them into submission, unknowingly ensuring the rise of an Obscurial.

Never had Credence played such a large part before. Certainly he was often the one who was being beaten, but he faced those moments with a quiet pride. This time, however, Credence drew in a shaky breath, tears streaming from his eyes, and roared out _Enough_ , the room filling with a dark smoke so thick Percival could barely make out the army of wands who advanced on him without sympathy.

Percival’s hair falls into his eyes as his breath begins to even out. An Obscurial is close to Credence, very close; close enough to want to protect him from his mother, and even the wizards of New York. This, Percival wants to believe, is what sends him in a frenzied whirl to the boy’s side.

\---

Although Credence is given the worst treatment, he is allowed a room of his own at least. And this likely only due to his age. Or the fact that it is the smallest in the Salemers’ home. That wretched woman of course keeps the best and largest room for herself. Percival has time to survey the entire decrepit building, disgusted by the lack of care put into a supposed family home. At the same time, he verifies that no one is still awake – that is, besides Credence.

Once he Apparated into their home, Percival realized the dream itself (nor the vision) were enough to have woken him in such a rush of emotion; it was Credence desperately clinging to the necklace he gave him.

Slowly, quietly, Percival enters the boy’s room. He steps through the darkness as if connected to it, and when he speaks, Credence visibly jumps. “Credence, is something the matter? I felt you call me.” He makes no mention of his own vision, the violence that awaits him in the future.

Credence sits up in his rickety, overly small bed, the springs creaking as he leans his frame against the wall behind him. “Mr. Graves, s-sorry to have woken you. I – I think I had a nightmare. The necklace was the only thing that gave me comfort.”

Percival moves as if gliding, sitting on the edge of his bed. He touches his knee like a reflex, stroking. Perhaps he had the same vision; his magic may be weak but it still exists within him. He continues to stroke his knee through the threadbare blanket, too thin for the cold outside. With a flick of his fingers, Percival remedies that, adding layers to it. He can’t have his most efficient messenger getting sick.

“Mr. Graves,” says Credence with an intake of breath, “if Ma sees this she’ll think I stole it.” He pushes it off quickly, as if the fabric alone is burning him with its presence.

“My boy,” Graves leans in, “dear boy. There are ways around your mother’s abuse. I can help you. Haven’t I helped you often in the past?”

Credence’s eyes water slightly. “Y-yes, of course. It’s just—”

“Shh, don’t worry. Credence,” he begins, pushing him against the wall and pulling the blankets back up. “tell me why you called me here. Is there something you need? I can help.” He resumes stroking his knee. “Anything you need, you can ask for it. You have my word.”

At this, Credence blushes so fiercely it appears like a beacon in the darkness of his room. He looks down at the hand on his knee, hiding his eyes from view. Percival would almost feel a swell of pride at the reaction if it were not from such an affection-starved boy such as he. He can’t help but touch the warming skin with the back of his knuckles.

Credence looks up at that, each blink a request, a word of praise, a guilty request, and Percival is more than happy to respond. He leans in, moving his hand to the back of Credence’s neck to draw him in close for a kiss. It is the most tentative he has done since his youth, simply because he doesn’t want to frighten off the boy. It wouldn’t do to breach his trust by forcing himself on him, in spite of how many nights he has imagined taking him roughly in his large and underused bed at home.

The kiss breaks by increments, Credence drawing in another sensual breath. His lashes flutter as his eyes struggle to open. “Mr. Graves,” he starts.

“Please, Credence. Call me Percival. Are we not acquainted enough?” He smiles fondly, stroking along the edge of Credence’s jaw.

Credence murmurs something in response, then looks away.

“What was that?” asks Percival, distracted. He gently traces Credence’s bottom lip with his thumb, spreading the shine of their kiss across it.

“Can you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep, I mean.” Credence turns his head to nuzzle against Percival’s fingers.

He doesn’t think he could refuse the boy even if he wanted to. “I don’t see why not,” he replies. If it’s company the boy wants, they might as well share it in a more comfortable place. He Disapparates them back to _his_ home.

“Mr. Graves, sir, I mean Percival. I can’t leave my room. Sometimes Ma does rounds and and if she sees I’m missing—” Credence shakes like a leaf, curling in on himself, eyes darting around the foreign room.

Percival touches his shoulder, squeezing to get his attention back on him. “It will be fine. I will use magic on her if need be.”

Credence opens his mouth to argue, so Percival leans in for another kiss. One he hopes will distract him enough to relax him. He guides him, while they kiss, back towards his massive bed. The boy has even less clothes on than he expected, nothing but a thin shirt and oversized cotton pants. Both of which do him no justice.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, pressing Credence into the bed with his weight.

Credence gasps, his hips moving up to seek the pressure of his body. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Percival licks into his mouth, removing the layers of clothing from between them as he presses closer, drawing away Credence’s cold skin, and giving him his warmth in return. Two trembling hands reach for his back, which is already beginning to glisten with sweat.

As they move, together, skin pressing and rubbing against skin, the visions return to Percival. Credence’s eyes flutter open, the dark brown changing to pure white, his skin ephemeral and translucent. Percival pulls back with a gasp, holding his weight above Credence’s body.

“Are you hiding something from me?” he asks. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Perhaps in a situation as intimate as this he will be more willing to divulge information about his fellow ‘siblings.’

“I – I really like you,” he mutters out softly, glancing away. He clutches to Percival’s back, blunt nails digging in for purchase against the sweat of his body. “I’ve never trusted someone as much as I trust you.”

“As do I,” says Percival, leaning in for another kiss. “I both trust and appreciate you.”

Credence leans up to meet him part-way, and Percival is incapable of denying the boy what he craves. He devours his chapped lips, leaving them red and bitten. The swell of his bottom lip draws him in, and he chews on it nearly to the point of blood. At this, Credence merely whimpers, begging for more of the sensual agony.

A touch like this he has not received from family nor his ‘Ma’ – all of whom do not care for him the way Percival does. Indeed, his main goal is finding the Obscurial, but he has grown fond of the boy and his innocence, if only because of how easy he is to manipulate.

Percival, so lost in the kiss and his thoughts, does not expect Credence to switch their positions. Though he is inexperienced, he kisses with the desire to please and overwhelm. His lips and teeth mark both Percival’s mouth and throat. Credence latches on to his shoulder, his face hidden in the crease of neck, panting as he begins to rut like a man starved. His body moves in sinewy waves, jarring Percival’s body with his smaller frame. Each thrust of his hips pushes Percival higher up the bed, both of them panting now; and he has to latch on the headboard not to hit his skull on the wall behind him. He watches with wide eyes as Credence takes them neatly over the edge, one thrust of his hips at a time.

When he comes – and surprisingly Percival is the first to lose himself in his senses – Credence lets out a roar unlike any living thing Percival has ever known. It is so loud, so resounding, that for a moment he, himself, is almost frightened by this meek boy. A flash of blood and screams appears in Percival’s sight, blinding him, reverberating through him, as Credence clings to him through the end of his climax, the edges of him blurring in and out of existence.

 

And that is when Percival knows –

            He knows so well now --

                         Why he always found himself drawn to Credence—

                                                The Obscurial.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments always welcome if you have the time.


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